A Horribly Haunted Halloween by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham [Graham, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-27T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

“Yes, it was David,” Veronica Chastain said, sitting up in her hospital bed.

Jackson sat in a chair by her side, listening as the woman described her ordeal. “I had just gotten home from work. I was tired, not paying a lot of attention. I’m in an apartment. I have a great job and I love it, but my company is small and it’s not as if I’m rolling in riches. I walked into the kitchen and then bam—that was the last I remembered until I woke up there. I was already tied, but David was standing over me. He wanted me to wake up.” She hesitated, shaking her head. “He wanted a job with the company. When he came in, we weren’t hiring fulltime. A month later, it was determined that we did need another fulltime person and it happened one of the directors we work with frequently had a nephew who really is good and . . . he got the job. I knew David was angry; he wrote all kinds of horrible things on our review sites. But I never imagined . . . anyway, he told me he was sorry I’d never get to see just how good his work was going to be on me. And he showed me a picture of what he had done to Gerard Greenway . . . he’s gone insane. Or he always was insane. You know, he got into an argument in traffic once, having a fit because the car in front of him didn’t make the right—but you don’t have to make the right there, the lane also goes straight . . . he punched the guy out! I mean, he could be a loose cannon, but I never expected . . . thank you. Oh, my God, I’m alive! Thank you. How did you find me?”

“Luck. Or, who knows? The homeless man was Roger Newsome. He was a veteran and fought in Viet Nam. Maybe he guided us somehow,” he said lightly. “We knew David Andre was . . . out for those who didn’t care for his talents, and we should be searching empty spaces having to do with special effects.”

“But I heard that nice Detective talking—the homeless man—Mr. Newsome—didn’t have anything to do with the movies or special effects.”

“No. We believe he was a victim of . . . circumstance.”

“I’m sorry! The poor man.”

“If it’s any comfort, he was ill. He wouldn’t have lived long.”

Veronica was drawn and anxious; she was going to be fine. She had some bruises, a concussion, and she had been dehydrated. But David Andre had only taken her the night before, and the doctors had said she was going to make a full recovery. She was earnest and sincere, a pretty woman in her early to mid-thirties, he thought. She seemed to care about others.

“He’s still out there—David is still out there, right?”

“Yes. Police have searched his home. He had a black SUV, but it was found abandoned. I don’t know how he plans to move his—”

He had been about to say victims.

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